Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Page #18

GONZO:

Right. Let's find a good seafood

restaurant and eat some red salmon.

I feel a powerful lust for red

salmon...

The electric WHITE WHALE heads off down the Strip. The

sun's going down behind the scrub hills, a good Kristofferson

tune croaks on the radio in the warm dusk.

INT. HOTEL FLAMINGO SUITE - BATHROOM - NEXT MORNING

GONZO throws up in the toilet bowl.

In the background, DUKE opens curtains. Daylight blinds him.

DUKE:

Come on, we're going to be late.

GONZO looks up at his sick reflection -- wipes his mouth

with a towel.

GONZO:

This goddamn mescaline. Why the

f*** can't they make it a little

less pure? Maybe mix it up with

Rolaids or something.

72.

INT. HOTEL BALLROOM - DAY

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

(crackling and

booming over the

lousy sound system)

On behalf of the prosecuting

attorneys of this county, I welcome

you to the Third National DA's

Conference on Narcotics and

Dangerous Drugs.

The EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR -- well groomed, GOP businessman

type -- speaks from the podium. A banner behind him reads:

NATIONAL DA'S CONVENTION 1971. "If You Don't Know, Come To

Learn... If You Know, Come To Teach."

A BIG MIXED CROWD: TOP LEVEL STRAIGHT COPS, UNDERCOVER NARCS

AND OTHER TWILIGHT TYPES -- beards, mustaches and super-Mod

dress. Just because you're a cop, doesn't mean you can't be

WITH IT! However, for every URBAN-HIPSTER there are around

20 REDNECKS.

A dozen big, low-fidelity speakers mounted on steel poles

distort and feed back the EXECUTIVE's voice through the room.

At the back, under a loudspeaker, sits DUKE -- $40 FBI

wingtips, a Pat Boone madras sportcoat, and an official name

tag:
RAOUL DUKE, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR, L.A.

GONZO sits beside him. His name tag: DR. GONZO. EXPERT,

CRIMINAL DRUG ANALYSIS. He's nervous -- close to the edge.

GONZO:

(lowers his voice)

I saw these bastards in Easy Rider,

but I didn't believe they were real.

Not like this. Not hundreds of them!

DUKE:

They're actually nice people when

you get to know them.

GONZO:

Man, I know these people in my

goddamn blood!

DUKE:

Don't mention that word around here.

You'll get them excited.

GONZO:

This is a f***ing nightmare.

73.

DUKE:

Right. Sure as hell some dope-

dealing bomb freak is going to

recognize you and put the word out

that you're partying with a thousand

cops.

COP IN BACK:

SSSSHHH!

DR. BLUMQUIST -- a "drug expert" -- takes the stage.

DR. BLUMQUIST

We must come to terms with the Drug

Culture in the country... country...

country...

The sound systems echoes.

DR. BLUMQUIST (CONT'D)

The reefer butt is called a "roach,"

because it resembles a cockroach...

cockroach... cockroach...

GONZO:

(whispers)

What the f*** are these people

talking about? You'd have to be

crazy on acid to think a joint

looked like a goddamn cockroach!

DUKE (V/O)

It was clear that we had stumbled

into a prehistoric gathering.

DR. BLUMQUIST

Now, there are four states of being

in the cannabis, or marijuana,

society:
Cool, Groovy, Hip, and

Square. The square is seldom if

ever cool. He is not "with it,"

that is, he doesn't know "what's

happening." But if he manages to

figure it out, he moves up a notch

to "hip."

DUKE and GONZO listen in disbelief.

DR. BLUMQUIST (CONT'D)

And if he can bring himself to

approve of what is happening, he

becomes "groovy." After that, with

much luck and perseverance, he can

rise to the rank of "cool." A cool

guy... cool guy... cool guy...

74.

COP IN BACK:

Dr. Bloomquist, do you think the

anthropologist, Margaret Mead's

strange behavior of late might

possibly be explained by a private

marijuana addiction?

DR. BLUMQUIST

I really don't know, but at her

age, if she did smoke grass, she'd

have one hell of a trip!

Roars of laughter.

GONZO:

I know a hell of a lot better ways

to waste my time than listening to

this bullshit.

He stands, knocking the ashtray off his chair arm, and

plunges down the aisle to the door.

COP IN BACK:

Down in front!

GONZO:

F*** you! I have to get out! I

don't belong here!

COP IN BACK:

Good riddance!

He stumbles from the room. DUKE turns his attention back to

the stage.

The lights go down. A black & white film -- REEFER

MADNESS! -- illustrates his now evangelical talk.

FILM NARRATOR:

KNOW YOUR DOPE FIEND! YOUR LIFE

MAY DEPEND ON IT! You will not be

able to see his eyes because of

Tea-Shades, but his knuckles will

be white from inner tension...

DUKE turns his attention to a 340 pound TEXAN POLICE CHIEF

who necks with his 290 pound WIFE beside him.

FILM NARRATOR:

... and his pants will be crusted

with semen from constantly jacking

off when he can't find a rape

victim...

75.

DUKE gazes at the TEXAN and his WIFE. -- Feigning sickness,

he gets up, hand over mouth.

DUKE:

Pardon me, I feel sick.

FILM NARRATOR:

He will stagger and babble when

questioned. He will not respect

your badge. The Dope Fiend fears

nothing. He will attack, for no

reason, with every weapon at his

command -- including yours...

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